


Propinquity (N.)

by earthseraph



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Architect!Bucky, Artist!Steve, Bucky Has A Steve Playlist, Childhood Friends, Demisexual!Bucky, Drunk Kissing, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Practice Kissing, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slightly Unhealthy Pining, Time Skips, Vignette, seasonal depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes has loved Steve for as long as he can remember. There's never been a moment in his life that he didn't love Steve, only moments where he's loved him, longed for him, much more than before.</p><p>These are those moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1992

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commission for the very patient, amazing [Erika](http://bucky-barnes-af.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Please enjoy!

_Propinquity (pro·pin·qui·ty) noun_

_1\. the state of being close to someone or something; proximity._

_2\. close kinship._

* * *

**Age 6, 1992**

“Tell me: why are you in your dad’s clothes?” Bucky’s mom asks, the video camera raised and pointed at him.

Bucky fumbles with a button, unable to slip it into the securing hole, before dropping his hands and looking up at his mom. “I’m gonna’ marry Steve.”

Winifred grins, kneeling down so the recorder’s closer to Bucky. “And why are you going to marry Steve?”

“‘Cause we saw it in Cinderella,” he replies with a shrug, looking up at his mom. 

Becca put on Cinderella for him and Steve earlier. Halting their game of tag when the all too familiar sound of Disney’s theme song rang through the living room. Within seconds the couch cushions were on the floor along with he and Steve. Both of them settled on the cushions, paying close attention to the movie like they were going to be quizzed on it later. They both kept their eyes glued to the screen, watching Cinderella, her evil stepsisters, and the loyal mice. He’s see Cinderella before, her being his favorite princess and all, but he’s never seen it with Steve. It was a new experience, watching it with his best friend. 

He made sure to watch Steve’s ever reaction when more important scenes came on. Watching him as she sang with the birds, as she turned into a princess, all of it. He knew from the moment he saw Steve gasp at the the wedding scene he wanted to do that with him. He wanted to reenact the wedding scene with his best friends because that’s what best friends did, right? Get married, that is.

“But _why_ do you want to marry him?” Winifred asks, her voice patient and amused.

Bucky frowns, looking down at the button he can’t seem to close. He thinks on why he wants to marry Steve, like Cinderella did with Prince Charming, before looking up at his mom. “Because he’s my best friend.” He looks over to where Becca’s fixing a tie on Steve, the fabric almost touching the floor, “You married dad because he was your best friend, didn’t you?” Bucky asks, looking up at his mom.

Winifred chuckles, switching the camera from one hand to the other. “I did.”

“And that way you’ll be best friends forever?” He tilts his head to the side, slightly pouting his lips because why else would someone get married than to be with their best friend for life? If people got married for other reasons that would be dumb.

“Exactly, James. But you can still be best friends forever without marrying someone,” She says gently.

Bucky frowns, confused once again. “How? If marrying someone makes them a person’s best friend forever, then how would not being married to someone do that?” It doesn’t make sense to him. He thought that a person could only have one best friend. He’ll have to as his mom or Becca about that later.

Winifred shrugs. “You just stay their friend while the person you marry is the bestest of all friends.”

Bucky’s frown deepens, the gears in his head turning at the thought of the movie. “But Cinderella didn’t even know Prince Charming before marrying him, why did she get married to him?”

“Sometimes you fall in love with someone that isn’t your best friend but by marrying them they become your best friend. That’s what happened with Prince Charming and Cinderella.”

“Oh.” Bucky looks down at the shirt he can’t seem to button, “That’s dumb, she should have married her best friend.”

“She didn’t have a best friend, James,” Winifred chuckles.

“‘Cause her step mom and sisters were evil.” If he knew Cinderella he would have been her best friend. He wouldn’t have married her because he’s marrying Steve, but he would have shown her how great having a best friend is.

“Exactly,” Winifred says, rising from her crouching position to ruffle Bucky’s hair. She nods over to where Steve is fiddling with his tied tie, “I think Steve’s ready for you.”

Bucky looks over at Steve, who grins at him, before looking up at his mom. He frowns, fingers still fiddling with the button on his shirt, “I can’t button my shirt.”

Winifred places her hand on his shoulder, nudging him forward, “Ask your big sister to do it. Nicely.”

Bucky nods, walking over to where Becca’s still kneeling by Steve. “Can you button my shirt Becs?”

“Sure thing. You gotta’ look cute for your wedding.” Becca grins, slowly doing up the little buttons, her fingers deft unlike Bucky’s. She pats his chest when she finishes the last button, “All done.”

Bucky looks down at the long stretch of buttons, grinning before looking up at Becca, “Thank you.”

She pats down his hair, moving the waves this and that way until their to her liking. “No problem.”

Bucky turns away from his sister and looks at Steve, grin still on his face, “We’re gonna’ be best friends forever.”

Steve frowns, his little fingers tugging on the tie, “I thought we were gonna’ be that already?”

Bucky nods, “Yeah but this makes it like..” he trails off, searching the air for a word, “..like super official.” He frowns at his choice of word, not liking that it doesn’t match what marrying Steve will feel like, but shakes it off, “Like nothing could make us not be friends.”

“Not even moving away?” Steve asks, biting his lip.

Bucky shakes his head. “Not even moving away.”

“Not even-” Steve gasps, like he was burned by the thought, “-finding another best friend?”

Bucky shakes his head, “Mom said you can have another best friend but marriage makes you my super best friend forever.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly, thinking on it before nodding, “I don’t think I would find another best friend like you, anyways.”

“I wouldn’t want to find another best friend, either,” Bucky says, throwing his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve grins, looking up at Bucky, “Neither would I.”

“Boys!” Winifred calls, pointing the camera at them, “Your sister’s ready to officiate.”

Steve and Bucky walk to where Becca’s perched on the couch, sitting cross legged with a bible in her hands. They stop in front of the coffee table, Bucky’s arm still around Steve’s shoulders.

Becca clears her throat, opening the bible to a random page. “Please face each other, holding hands.”

Bucky drops his arm from around Steve’s shoulders and turns so they’re looking at each other. He holds both of his hands out like he’s seen in the movies, smiling when Steve takes them between his own.

“Bucky Barnes, do you take Steve Rogers as your lawfully wedded best friend?” She asks, looking at Bucky with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘I do’,” Steve whispers, “Just like the movies, Buck.”

“Oh, uh, I do,” Bucky stutters, blushing at his mistake but silently thanking Steve for correcting him.

“Even in sickness, poorness, in the worse of times?”

“Well..” Bucky looks at their joined hands, shrugging, “Stevie always gets sick and I help him, neither of us get large allowances, and we never don’t speak for long so yeah. I do.”

Becca turns her head to look at Steve. “Steve Rogers, do you take Bucky Barnes to be your lawfully wedded best friend?”

Bucky watches as a grin spreads across Steve’s lips, gaped from the tooth he lost last month. “I do!”

“Even in sickness, poorness, in the worse of times?” Becca repeats, eyebrow arched.

Steve nods vigorously, “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

Becca closes the bible, producing two green, beaded bracelets from her pocket. She holds one in each hand, “With these you will solidify your best friendship. Take one and place it on the other friend.”

Bucky extracts his hand from between Steve’s, taking the bracelet from Becca before turning back to Steve. He takes Steve’s wrist and slips the beads on it, holding his own out for Steve, grinning when the beads are secure on his wrist. The beads are plastic with some elastic holding them together but it’s the best friendship bracelet he’s ever seen.

“I now pronounce you best friends forever,” Becca says with a clap.

Bucky’s grin stays on his face as he looks at Steve, their faces mirroring each other. The grin widens when his mom cheers, still recording them.

“We’re best friends forever, Buck,” Steve says, playing with the bracelet on Bucky’s wrist. He pulls it gently, letting it snap back against Bucky’s wrist.

“Yeah, yeah, we are.” Bucky nods, looking down at the green beads. 

He’s officially best friends with Steve, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Forever,” Bucky says, looking up at Steve.

Steve nods, serious, “Forever.”

It’s a promise.


	2. 2002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Those people have lives too, you know,” Steve grumbles, repeating himself, turning the corner to the nurse’s office, “everyone has a life that shouldn’t be surrounded by me and my problems.”
> 
> Bucky frowns. “I feel like that statement is directed at me.” 
> 
> He doesn’t mention the fact that Steve is the largest part of his life or the fact that he doesn’t mind Steve having that big of a role. He doesn’t mention the fact that if they were getting married they’d have the ‘in sickness and health’ thing down, or the fact that marrying Steve is even a fantasy in his head. It’s a very messy, not-mentioning process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

**Age 16, 2002**

“There’s not even a real fight between Batman and Superman,” Steve says, pointing his cookie at Clint, “Superman’s a _God_ whereas Batman’s just a rich human.”

Bucky shares a grin with Natasha, taking a sip of his strawberry milk. Lunch always goes like this: Clint will bring up some ridiculous scenario that Batman could maybe, possibly win and Steve swoops in with his righteous fury to defend Superman. 

Anyone else would think Clint and Steve hate each other with all the snark and arguments they throw around, but those people only think that because of what they hear coming from their lunch table. Those people don’t see the companionable silences Clint and Steve share over comics books and pizza. Those people don’t know how Clint works when it comes to friends: if his dog likes the person, Clint likes the person. Lucky, for that matter, loves the hell out of Steve.

“Wonder Woman would crush everyone and we all know it here,” Bucky says, nudging Steve in the side with his elbow, “Batman and Superman don’t have a damn chance there.” He thinks of Wonder Woman, shield and lasso in hand, protecting the city. It’s a better thought than Batman’s one man mission or Superman’s laser eyes. Besides, she doesn’t have any emotional attachments that could change her judgement like Batman and Superman do. Lois Lane constantly does stupid shit, and all of Batman’s adopted Bat Children must constantly be on his mind.

Both Clint and Steve nod with a little frowns on their faces. Slightly upset with the fact that their favorites aren’t superior to one Diana Prince. 

“Yeah, she’d wipe the floor with them,” Clint sighs, poking at the fruit cup with his spork, “She’d wipe the floor with them then make them wax it when she’s done.”

“And they’d do it,” Steve agrees, nodding. “Nobody disrespects Wonder Woman.”

“Women are amazing,” Natasha says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Women with superpowers should run the world.”

“Women in general should run the world,” Clint sighs, “they’d do a hell of a lot better than men.”

Natasha nods in approval. “Close the wage gap and we’ll talk.”

Bucky snorts and then proceeds to tune them out. 

It’s not that he doesn’t care what they have to say- he does, he wants his sister to go just as far as he does in life- but he doesn’t need to listen. No, not really. Not when he has the chance to watch Steve out of the corner of his eye. Watch as Steve gestures and makes large sweeping motions with his thin hands, cookie still between his finger. He wants to watch as Steve subconsciously flips back his hair with a jerk of his head, as he takes a second to lick his lips before speaking. He just wants to watch. He wants to have a couple precious moments to focus on Steve while Steve isn’t paying attention to him.

He and Steve have been friends for as long as he can remember, ‘since the dawn of time,’ they joke. He remembers worrying that high school would separate them, what with Steve’s interest in painting and his own interest in buildings, but nothing of that sort happened. If anything, high school brought them closer together. Both in better and worse ways. 

Bucky’s Steve’s best friend, that’s undeniable. Now, though, he’s also the person that listens to Steve’s crushes. He does everything that comes with being a best friend in high school. It’s new territory. Steve didn’t care for anyone in middle school while Bucky cared a fuckton for Steve. He doesn’t mind his new responsibilities as Steve’s best friend, not really, but his own crush for Steve rings loud in his head everyday. Especially because he’s the person that plays wingman, that has a first class ticket to Steve’s love life. Not that he’s invited to be an explicit partner in it. 

His crush is terrible. Not because it’s Steve he’s crushing on- anyone that has a crush on Steve should feel blessed- but because it’s something he constantly remembers every day. Every time he sees Steve his heart flutters and his cheeks warm over for a moment. He doesn’t know hot Steve doesn’t notice it, for that matter. His crush feels like a blinking neon sign that also has an alarm. The color and sound both loud and obvious.

He tells himself it’s just hormones, that it’s just his _want_ to have someone, but he doesn’t feel this way towards other people. There’s not a single person in this school that catches his eye the way Steve does, that makes his heart flutter the way Steve does. While he wishes it were any other way because Steve’s his best friend, it’s not any other way and Bucky just needs to deal with that. He needs to get a grip, get a hold of himself, because Steve is his best friend and that’s all he’ll ever be. Unfortunately. 

“Right, Bucky?” Steve says, slapping his chest with the back of his hand.

Bucky blinks. “Huh?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin on his face, “Right Superman can breathe ice?”

“He totally cannot!” Clint yells, spork wielded in hand. “If he can shoot lasers out of his eye it would make zero sense that ice could come out of his mouth.”

“He can, though.” Bucky nods, “It’s a real thing.” 

He remembers the day Steve shoved the comic in his face that featured Superman’s ice breath. They both thought it was dumb and senseless but Clint doesn’t need to know that. All Clint needs to know is that it’s something comic-canonical that Batman most certainly can’t do.

Clint crosses his arms, fruit cup forgotten. “I need evidence.”

“I’ll bring the comic tomorrow to prove you wrong,” Steve says with the raise of an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Clint huffs, “and that isn’t me conceding the argument it’s me agreeing to see this comic of yours to explain to you how dumb it is,” He clarifies, picking up the fruit cup once more, taking a large spoonful of fruit and sticking it in his mouth.

Steve gives him a knowing look because while Clint doesn’t _concede_ he doesn’t actually win, either. “Whatever you say, Clint.”

Clint sticks his tongue out at Steve, making Bucky snort and Natasha mutter _mature_ under her breath before getting up to throw her lunch away.

Bucky watches her go for a moment before looking back to Steve and nodding to the still unbitten cookie in his hand. ”You gonna’ eat that?” He’s been secretly eyeing it since Steve started waving it around. Bucky doesn’t know what kind of cookie it is, he just knows that it’s damn good and if Steve isn’t going to eat his own then Bucky will.

“Yes.” Steve rolls his eyes, taking a big bite out of his cookie. He chews it with a smile on his face, making ridiculous ‘mmm’ sounds.

Bucky snorts. “I think Clint might be more mature than you, Stevie, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m not sure whether to take that as an insult or compliment,” Clint says before shrugging, “compliment, I guess.”

“Take the compliment, they’re running thin for you these days.” Natasha sighs, sitting back down with a graceful ease Bucky could only wish for.

Clint rolls his eyes. “If you weren’t my girlfriend I don’t think we’d be friends.”

A considering look crosses Natasha’s face before she shrugs, “But I am so we don’t have to deal with that.”

“Yeah.” Clint grins, lopsided and goofy.

Bucky makes gagging sounds, clutching his throat like he’s choking. “You guys are gross. Please take that somewhere else.” 

Nat and Clint have been together since high school started, Bucky thought he’d get used to it but he hasn’t. Natasha is cold with a side of dork, one of the best ballerinas in her court. While Clint is one hundred percent a dork who, at the tender age of sixteen, can’t live without a cup of coffee in the morning. Sure he’s a great archer, promised admission to multiple colleges, but that doesn't say anything about his personality. One would think they wouldn’t make a good couple at all but then they’d be wrong. Natasha and Clint are the healthiest teenage couple he’s yet to set his eyes on.

“I don’t feel so well,” Steve groans, putting down his cookie.

Bucky looks over at Steve frowning. He places the back of his hand on Steve’s forehead, “What’s wrong?”

Steve frowns for a moment before his eyes widen. “Buck, I think the cookie had peanuts.”

“You need to be sure before I stab you in the leg with the pen,” Bucky says urgently, his hands on Steve’s shoulders. He can hear Natasha and Clint freaking out from the other side of the table, Natasha at the fact that Steve has an allergic reaction to peanuts and Clint to the fact that Bucky threatened to stab Steve. Bucky though, he’s cool and calm. He’s gone through this once before with Steve and knows that if he isn’t calm there’s a potential for Steve not to be, either.

Steve starts wheezing, red welts appearing on his neck. “I-” he breaths in, trying to get oxygen to his lungs, “-I’m sure.”

Bucky moves quickly, dragging his backpack from underneath the table. He unzips the middle pocket, the one he keeps clean save for Steve’s medication, and pulls out an epipen. He uncaps it, taking Steve’s outstretched leg, and stabs it into the outside of his thigh.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky tells him, pulling the pen back to rub the medication in, his hand’s gentle against Steve’s jean clad thigh, “We should get you to the nurse,” He murmurs, still rubbing Steve’s thigh.

Steve makes a face, about to protest, when Clint cuts in.

“Do you have all of Steve’s meds on you, or something?” His eyes are wide, and slightly stunned.

“Well.. yeah.” Bucky shrugs, majority of his brain focused on Steve. Watching as he takes in deep breaths, trying to calm his heart and let the medication work, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Clint blinks. “I’m Natasha’s boyfriend and I don’t have any of her medication.”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes, “If holding some pads or tampons for me will make you feel better about yourself I’ll give you a stash to keep in your bag.”

“Please,” Clint begs, “Because they’re just friends and Bucky probably knows Steve’s prescriptions front to back.”

Bucky ignores the pang in his heart at the fact that him and Steve are nothing more than friends and turns to Steve. “Ready?”

Steve nods, still breathless with a hand on his chest. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Don’t worry about your trays, I got ‘em.” Clint says, pulling the styrofoam rectangles closer to him.

“Feel better. I’ll take notes for you if you miss history,” Natasha tells Steve, her eyes flashing with concern.

Steve nods. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, picking up Steve’s backpack. “You just had an allergic reaction, Steve, that wasn’t just _nothing_.”

“And you worry too much. I’m surprised you haven’t lost all your hair from stress,” Steve shoots back, frowning. He’s acting more like a wet cat than like a human but Bucky’s dealt with this before so he’s used to it.

It’s Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes. “Let’s get you to the nurse before you pass out and I have to drag your ass there.” He holds his arm out for Steve, but Steve bypasses it with a stumble to his walk. Bucky takes in a deep breath, looking at the ceiling, asking God for help, before looking down at Natasha and Clint, “See you guys later.”

They both give him mock salutes watching with worry in their eyes as Steve wobbles off after having had an allergic reaction and a shot to the thigh. He gives them a small smile, hoping transmits that Steve will be okay, before following Steve to the nurse’s.

He catches up with Steve about to walk out of the cafeteria. “I wonder how the peanuts in the cookie slipped by the cafeteria ladies.”

Steve, walking determined but slanted, sighs. “Because they have lives other than making sure I don’t die.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s usually on the menu, though.” He’s not blaming the cafeteria ladies because they’re overworked and underpaid, but still.. Someone should have made a warning. 

“Those people have lives too, you know,” Steve grumbles, repeating himself, turning the corner to the nurse’s office, “everyone has a life that shouldn’t be surrounded by me and my problems.”

Bucky frowns. “I feel like that statement is directed at me.” 

He doesn’t mention the fact that Steve is the largest part of his life or the fact that he doesn’t mind Steve having that big of a role. He doesn’t mention the fact that if they were getting married they’d have the ‘in sickness and health’ thing down, or the fact that marrying Steve is even a fantasy in his head. It’s a very messy, not-mentioning process. 

“Buck,” Steve sighs, his face becoming serious like he’s going to rain down words of wisdom about what Bucky should and shouldn’t be doing with his life, when the door to the nurse’s office opens.

Nurse Temple stops mid step. “Oh-” She looks between them, a hand on her hip, “-what is it this time?”

“Hi, Ms.Temple.” Bucky smiles at her, trying to get through the frown she has on her lips, “Steve had an allergic reaction to peanuts. I already gave him the epipen shot.”

“And dragged me here,” Steve says, shooting Bucky a glare that he ignores.

Temple holds the door open, waving them in, “Let me do a work up on you and then you can get back to your lives.”

They both walk into her office, Steve taking the bed and Bucky standing beside him. 

“How’d you eat peanuts?” Temple asks, checking Steve over.

Steve shrugs. “Ate a cookie and they were just in there, I guess. Didn’t notice until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“The cafeteria staff didn’t have a warning up?” She asks, frowning.

Steve shakes his head. “No, but I’m not going to complain to anyone. Don’t want to make more problems for them or get them fired.”

Bucky wants to protest but he stops himself. The ladies in the cafeteria are nice to everyone even when they’re worked ragged, and he doesn’t want to make someone lose their job even though Steve could have lost his life. Extreme that might be, it’s the truth. It’s a messy situation, but it’s Steve’s situation and- for once- he’s not going to meddle in it.

Temple just hums before stepping back, “You seem fine. Just take it easy for the rest of the day.”

Steve nods. “Yes, ma’am, thank you.” and gets up from the bed, motioning for them to leave.

Bucky smiles at the nurse as they walk out the door. Handing Steve his backpack when prompted.

“Thanks,” Steve says and Bucky knows it’s both for the backpack and him taking care of Steve, even when he doesn’t want it. It’s how their relationship’s always been.

Bucky grins as they walk, hooking an arm over Steve’s shoulders. “No problem.”

“Wanna’ wait outside of history?” Steve asks, comfortable under the arm.

Bucky nods, pulling Steve in as close as he platonically can. “Sure.”

They walk in silence and while Bucky would rather their relationship be much more, this is perfectly fine. He doesn’t want to ask Steve out and screw things up either now or in the future. He’d rather be able to do things like this, like keeping Steve safe and happy. One day there’ll be another person that takes over his role and on that day he’ll bow out as gracefully as he can, but for now this is okay. For now this is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rebloggable post](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/150363358330/propinquity-n-by-earthseraph-pesmenos)
> 
>  
> 
> Also: I have zero medical knowledge and I've been informed that if you use an epipen you should be taken to the hospital after the usage! ~~This is fanfic tho so like... At least I didn't stab Steve~~


	3. 2003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve looks up, steel in his eyes. “You’ve kissed people before.”
> 
> Bucky nods once, it’s more of a jerk of his head. Bucky hopes Steve will extend on whatever this favor is. He’s not appreciating Steve being so cryptic.
> 
> Steve moves closer on the couch, hand still on Bucky’s thigh. “I need you to teach me how to kiss someone. Practice with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

_Age 17, 2003_

Bucky’s in a bad mood, well... He wants to be in a bad mood but he can’t exactly get himself there.

“Are you ready for your date?” Bucky asks, rolling his head against the back of the couch to look at Steve.

Steve, dressed up in a nice button down, shrugs. “No- yes- I don’t know.”

Bucky gives Steve the best grin he can muster with his broken, fragile heart. “You’ll do fine, I know you will.”

Steve’s going out with Peggy Carter, president of their class, valedictorian, an all around great catch. The details of who asked who out are a little fuzzy, but he knows that Steve’s been excited for this date since the asking happened. Bucky, on the other hand, hasn’t been. He’s been failing Steve in the best friend department. He’s been dragging his feet on getting Steve prepared, and, while he hates himself a little bit, he hopes this is just a summer fling. He wants it to be a just a summer fling despite the fact that Peggy’s probably the best match for Steve.

Steve lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, sure,” He clears his throat, looking up at Bucky from where he was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, “I don’t want to think about it, though, it makes me too nervous.”

“Okay.” Bucky nods, unsure where the conversation’s going or where he should take it. If Steve doesn’t want to think about it or talk about it then they won’t. Better for Bucky’s heart, anyways. 

He’s a selfish bastard and he knows it.

Steve visibly searches the air for a topic before his eyes light up. “Have you thought about what you’re going to send into RISD?”

“Applications aren’t due until October, Steve. It’s only July.” RISD is both he and Steve’s dream school. One of the best art schools in the country that’s far enough north to not be New York but close enough to come visit their families during holidays. Their dream- _the_ dream is for both of them to get in. Spend their college years together like they’ve spent the rest of their life. Steve majoring in painting while he suffers through grueling, but worthwhile, architecture. It’s a dream if he’s ever made one. Their option, the failsafe of sorts, is NYU. Bucky hopes he doesn’t have to break that safe open.

Steve brings his legs up under himself on the couch. “Yeah, but acceptance rate is only- like- thirty percent. If you don’t think about it now you might not get in.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, watching the colors from the TV flash against Steve’s skin. “You sayin’ I’m not gonna’ get in?” 

It’s a real fear- not getting in. It’s a fear that Bucky doesn’t want to admit keeps him up at night. One that makes him concerned about his future. 

Steve’s already got a shoe in. He’s in the top ten percent of their class- Bucky top fifteen- and has won more awards than Bucky can count on his fingers and toes. Steve has no worries about getting in, Bucky, though, does. The amount of concern he has for his future with his best friend could probably qualify him a visit to the school counselor. 

Steve sighs, shaking his head, “No. I’m saying you should care a little bit more about it.”

Bucky frowns, anger sparking in his stomach that he knows isn’t just about Steve’s comment. It’s about the comment, the unsure feeling he has about his future, and the events that are going to take place with Steve and Peggy tonight. “I care a fuckton about it, Steve. I have less of a chance at getting in than you do and we all know it.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Buck,” Steve says, leaning forward on the couch to press a calming hand to Bucky’s thigh, “I just don’t want to go to college without my best friend, is all.”

The anger dies in Bucky’s stomach. He doesn’t want to go to college without his best friend, either, but he doesn’t know if he can deal with going to college with Steve. Seeing Steve go out with someone else, seeing Steve plan a life with someone else in college, seeing his chances with Steve dwindle down, seeing his own place in Steve’s life be taken up by someone else. It’s college, Steve going to go out with someone else, going falling in love with that person. Replacing Bucky- accident or not- is bound to happen. 

“I know. I don’t either.” It’s both the truth and a lie. Going to college with Steve is a double edged sword he doesn’t know if he wants to yield.

“So, you’ll think about what pieces you’re going to send in?” Steve asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Bucky breaks, sighing, “Yeah, I’ll start tomorrow. Maybe make something new. Gotta’ impress the hell out of them.” He needs to dazzle them. Show them he’s better than the next guy for a spot in their architecture college.

“You will.” Steve nods, “There’s no doubt about that.”

“We hope,” Bucky says with a humorless laugh. 

He doesn’t mean to be so self deprecating but he can’t help it. Steve’s going on a date tonight, Steve’s got a shoe in RISD’s door, Steve could forget about him at a moment’s notice. It’s nothing against Steve but it’s everything against himself.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve asks, his voice hesitant, “Could you do me a favor?”

Bucky nods, unsure but willing to do anything for Steve. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Steve, not meeting his eyes, looking down at his lap where he fiddles with his shirt buttons. “Well, you’ve done this dating thing before.”

“Yeah, so?” He’s done it a total of three times. Each time ended with a new friend and some outrageous lie to tell Steve the next day. He doesn’t know why he always felt the need to lie about his dates, but it happened. He made sure to never introduce his dates to Steve, lest his lies are found out. He also never stayed with the person for long. They usually wanted something more than Bucky could commit himself to, so they’d part ways as friends and nothing more. Bucky doesn’t think he wants to go on a date ever again if it’s not Steve.

Steve looks up, steel in his eyes. “You’ve kissed people before.”

Bucky nods once, it’s more of a jerk of his head. Bucky hopes Steve will extend on whatever this favor is. He’s not appreciating Steve being so cryptic.

Steve moves closer on the couch, hand still on Bucky’s thigh. “I need you to teach me how to kiss someone. Practice with me.”

Bucky blinks. “What?” He must have misheard Steve or this must be a dream. Steve can’t be serious.

“Practice kissing with me. I don’t want to screw things up with Peggy.”

If this were a dream Steve wouldn’t have brought up Peggy. 

Bucky looks over Steve’s face. Looking for some sign that Steve’s pulling his leg. Looking for a sign that Steve knows all about his very huge crush and this is some cruel joke, but he finds nothing. 

All he sees is honesty. Steve really wants to learn how to kiss. Steve really wants to learn how to kiss and wants Bucky to be his teacher. Steve is doing this all for Peggy. Bucky wants to tell him no. Ask him if he could please leave Bucky’s house, maybe play it off as a joke, but he can’t. Not with the determined look on Steve’s face. Not with the trust Steve has instilled in him to ask for this.

Bucky sighs and forces himself not to close his eyes and rub his temples. He gives in. “Come closer.”

“Thank you, Buck,” Steve sighs, moving closer on the couch. Their noses almost touching.

Bucky feels like every little hair on his face is standing at it’s end. He can feel Steve’s breaths on his lips, smell the mint from his gum earlier, feel the warmth of him. “You trust me?” Bucky asks softly, slowly bringing a hand up to Steve’s neck. He can feel the softness of his skin, his pulse and warmth beneath his fingers. He could pretend this was real, that they were going to have their first kiss and he was going led the way for them, but he can’t do that to himself. He needs to keep in mind that this is for Steve, that none of this is for him and his crush on Steve. All of this, in the end, is for Peggy.

“Yeah.” Steve nods, equally as breathless.

Bucky tilts his head slightly to the side and closes the space between them. His nose brushes Steve’s, their lips only just pressing together. He closes his eyes, savoring the kiss, savoring what he knows he can’t have. He doesn’t know how far Steve wants to go with kissing or how much he can give of himself before his crush is obvious. He pulls back slightly, about to ask if Steve’s okay, when Steve leans in.

Steve presses their lips together, rough and the slightest bit harsh. The quick movement stuns Bucky, making him yelp, but then Steve’s hands come up to his hair and pull him closer. They thread and tug, Steve’s mouth no longer closed but open. Their kiss turns from a simple press of lips to open and hot. Bucky doesn’t pull his kisses, he doesn’t tell Steve how they shouldn’t be doing this, or shield his own heart. He just dives in. 

Bucky moves his hands from Steve’s neck into his hair, feeling the gel when he cards his fingers through the strands. With the grip on Steve’s hair, he pulls him in closer. Bucky licks the seam of Steve’s lips, liking the little ‘oh’ that spills from Steve’s mouth. Bucky licks across Steve’s teeth, feeling the smooth alignment of them against his tongue, then finds Steve’s own tongue. 

He knows he should feel weird rubbing his tongue against his best friend’s- his best friend who’s about to go on a date- but he’s thrown all care out the window, at this point. Bucky sucks on Steve’s tongue, enjoying the way Steve moans, the way his fingers tug harder at his hair. He knows there’s spit around his lips, that he’s harder than he’s ever been in his pants, but Steve just reciprocates. That reciprocation from Steve only makes Bucky dive in further.

Steve’s a little more timid. A little more unsure, but when he gains some confidence it it’s like fireworks erupt behind Bucky’s eyes. Bucky’s the one to moan this time, to pull on Steve’s hair and bring their bodies closer. He wants to push Steve back against the couch cushions, kiss down his throat and suck marks into his collarbone, but he can’t. All of this is under the guise of practice. Nothing more than that, he’s just teaching Steve how to properly make out with someone. No feelings involved, no pushing someone else against the couch and having their way with them. 

Steve nips at his lip, sucking it between his lips for a moment, and Bucky’s about to reciprocate- about to suck and bite- when someone honks twice. 

They both jump away from each other. Steve looking as debauched as Bucky feels. His hair’s a mess, his lips are red with spit around them, and Bucky knows if he looked down there would be a tent in his slacks. He doesn’t want to see that reaction, though, not when it doesn’t mean anything. 

Bucky keeps his eyes on the wall behind Steve’s shoulder and clears his throat.

“Thanks for the practice, Buck,” Steve mumbles, getting up from the couch, “I’ll see you later.”

Bucky nods, decidedly not watching Steve leave. “Yeah,” his voice is rough, “see you later.” He keeps his eyes on the wall until Steve leaves, then promptly lets himself fall back on the couch.

A laugh track plays on the TV and Bucky would glare at it if it weren’t so ironic. He throws his arm over his face and breathes in deeply. 

Kissing Steve, while amazing, only hurt him more. 

He literally got a taste of what he can’t have. He got to feel the softness of Steve’s lips, the warmth and passion that lives in them. Thing is, he wishes like hell that the passion was meant for him. Not for or any other person Steve might date. It’s selfish but he’s already came to terms with the fact that he’s a selfish bastard.

Bucky sighs, pushing himself up from the couch. He pats his hair down to the best of his ability, before cutting the TV off. He’s going to mope in his room before his all too aware sister comes home and notices his shift in mood.

* * *

“What’s up with you?” Becca asks, leaning in his open doorway.

Bucky sighs rolling over in his bed to look at the ceiling. He and Becca tell each other everything, they disclose everything to each other. With that in mind: telling her this shouldn’t be anything new. This time, though, it’s slightly embarrassing. What went on earlier isn’t something he expected to happen. 

“A Steve thing.” He tells her instead.

“What sort of Steve thing?” She asks, coming into his room and making herself comfortable at his desk.

Bucky keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling. “The sort of thing where he asks me to help him practice kissing.”

“Oh,” Becca says, surprised, “and you did it? Help him practice, I mean.”

Bucky nods, hating the flush that coats his cheeks.

“Did it totally suck?”

“No.” He rolls over, looking at Becca, “Though I wish it did. Would have been easier to deal with, ya’ know?” If Steve was a terrible kisser that made Bucky’s teeth hurt and drooled, Bucky wouldn’t be so hung up. Steve, though, was amazing. 

It sucks.

Becca frowns, a little dip between her eyebrows. “Steve’s an idiot. He’s totally blind to your emotions and doesn’t seem to care about them.”

“It’s not Steve’s fault I haven’t said anything,” Bucky sighs, defending Steve even though he knows there’s some truth to Becca’s words. He’ll always defend Steve, even when he’s wrong.

“It’s not your fault, either.” Becca shakes her head, “He knows you would do anything for him. Asking you to do something like that crossed a line and you know it. You have to agree that he slightly abused your friendship.”

Bucky pushes himself up on an arm. “I consented, I agreed to help him. He doesn’t know how I’m feeling and I shouldn’t expect him to. You can’t blame him for making me feel bad when he doesn’t know the half of it. It’s not that easy.” He only wishes it were that easy to just throw all the blame on Steve. Make Steve out to be the bad guy so Bucky can feel slightly better about himself.

Becca’s quiet for a moment, the dip between her eyebrows smoothing out. Her shoulders drop instead, ”I know. I just worry about you. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore.”

He can hear the pain in her voice. The concern for his emotions and well being.

 

“I know, Becs,” Bucky sighs, laying back down to stare at the ceiling, “but there’s nobody to blame here but me.”

“You should tell him,” Becca says, her voice soft.

Bucky shakes his head. “And have him reject me? No.”

“You don’t know how things will play out, Bucky.”

“I said no, Becca,” He snaps, rubbing his face with his hands immediately after. She didn’t do or say anything wrong, “Sorry. It’s just a raw nerve I don’t want to think about.” He drops his hands, still looking at the ceiling, “Tell me about work instead.”

She’s silent for a moment before: “Remember that one patient I hated?” 

Bucky nods, grateful. He’d rather listen to Becca’s nurse stories than deal with his own problems, at least for right now.

Tomorrow he’ll have to deal with his feelings again. He’ll have to sit through Steve talking all about his date and pretending the kiss never happened. That’s tomorrow, though, right now he’ll listen to Becca and lose himself in her stories. Right now he can pretend the kiss never happened and that Steve’s not on a date.

He can pretend. He’s been doing it all his life, what’s any difference doing it now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rebloggable post](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/151015440505/propinquity-n-by-earthseraph-pesmenos)


	4. 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a dozen red roses, a corsage of the same flower, and a poster asking Steve out to prom made with glitter and cut out letters all stuffed into Bucky’s backpack. Waiting patiently for him to do what he needs to with them. AKA: Asking Steve to prom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

_Age 18, 2004_

There’s a dozen red roses, a corsage of the same flower, and a poster asking Steve out to prom made with glitter and cut out letters all stuffed into Bucky’s backpack. Waiting patiently for him to do what he needs to with them. AKA: Asking Steve to prom.

Bucky feels like his stomach’s being eaten by butterflies as he waits outside of Steve’s last class. He’s nervous as hell, if he could be any more nervous he would.

No, not just nervous, but terrified too. Of rejection and of just _asking_. 

Bucky needs to man up.

This year, senior year, hasn’t been too kind to him. Instead of an acceptance letter from RISD, he got one of the _I’m sorry to inform you.._ variety. Instead of telling Steve to stay behind in New York with him where they would both attend NYU, he told Steve go to and live his dreams in Rhode Island. He’s had to deal with Steve dating Peggy until they decided they were better off as friends- four months of hell for everyone involved, including Bucky. 

He’s had to deal with too much, if he’s being honest, and through all of that he couldn’t talk to his best friend about it. Not because he wanted to keep those thoughts to himself but because he didn’t want to hurt Steve with them.

Now, though, at the butt end of the year, he feels like things are turning around. He feels like things are looking up, finally. It only took the entire year.

Sadly, the reason things are looking up is because he knows for a fact that Steve isn’t going to prom with anyone. He and Steve decided to both go stag since neither of them were dating or had anyone in mind. It was a decision made after Steve and Peggy ended, a decision Bucky backed both because it would be easier on him and because he never wanted to take anyone to prom.

This week, being a week before prom, is- in Bucky’s opinion- the best time to ask Steve out. The best time because he’s absolutely certain that Steve isn’t going with anyone and because he’s out of time. If he doesn’t ask now he won’t have time to ask next week. All the shitty things from the beginning of the year have lead up to this moment.

Despite his limited amount of time to ask, he’s going to wait until they're a little ways away from school before asking. He wants the moment to be perfect, to be private and only between them. He’s going to wait until they’re at the corner between both their houses before pulling out the poster and roses. He’s going to give Steve the chance to reject him in private instead of pressuring him in front of the entire school body like some douche faces do. If Steve doesn’t reject him, though, he’ll give him the roses and maybe hold his hand as they walk home.

The thought of holding Steve’s hand makes butterflies erupt in Buck’s stomach. He can’t focus on that right now. He still needs to prepare himself for possible rejection. 

It feels like he’s been waiting here for an eternity but in reality it’s only been a handful of minutes. He needs to get a grip. Bucky shifts his weight on his heels and stares at the clock hanging above the classroom door. He wishes the hands would move quicker, that the seconds would speed up and the bell would go on and ring. Finally, the minute hand moves to thirty and Bucky takes in a deep breath. 

The classroom door opens and all the students pour out, trying to get to their Friday already. He looks over everyone, ignoring familiar faces because he’s only here for Steve, and waits patiently. A couple more people trickle out before Steve walks out, Peggy beside him.

Bucky gives Peggy a tight smile and nod when she catches his eye, waiting against the wall for Steve to come to him. He watches Steve and Peggy hug but holds his head high. He’s going to ask Steve to prom. Steve and Peggy broke up months ago, she’s not a threat to him. Not anymore.

He smiles at Steve when the blonde walks to him. Peggy, thankfully, walking the other direction. “Ready to go?” He asks, feeling slightly breathless, like he’s going to be sick with nerves. 

Steve nods, gripping his backpack straps. He has small smile on his lips that Bucky loves too much. “Yeah.”

They walk out of the school in a companionable silence. The feeling of summer coming and their high school career ending in the air. He keeps his eyes ahead, unsure if Steve notices the awkward air surrounding them. He’s trying to dig up all of his charm and wit, bring it all to the front of his person so when he asks Steve it’s flawless. The last thing he wants to do is fuck things up, like he did with his RISD application and his future with Steve.

Steve clears his throat, “Guess what, Buck?”

Bucky looks over to Steve, slowing his walking, they’re at the corner between their houses. “What’s up?” He hopes the slight shake to his voice isn’t noticeable.

“Peggy asked me to prom and I said yes.” Steve says it in one quick breath. Like he’s been keeping it in and can’t help but get it out.

It feels like the world stops for a moment when Steve says those words. Time freezes, things halt to a quick stop, and Bucky’s breath is caught in his throat. He actually can feel his heart break, shatter against the inside of his chest and fall into the pit of his stomach. He can feel the corsage, flowers, and poster in his backpack all become meaningless. He wants this to be a dream. He wants to wake up and realize he fell asleep in history and this was nothing but a terrible nightmare.

If Bucky’s life were a movie some heartbreaking track would play. No, if Bucky’s life were a movie and he was the protagonist he’d have gotten the guy by now. He’d have whisked Steve away to prom, he’d have gotten into fucking RISD. Not this shit, never this shit.

“Buck?” Steve asks voice concerned, breaking Bucky out of trying to pick up the pieces of his heart that are spilling through his fingers in front of Steve.

Bucky clears his throat, trying not to cry in front of Steve. “That’s good, Steve, real good.” He takes in a breath before acting like he just remembered something, “Oh, I forgot Becca needed me to start dinner. I’ll- uh- I’ll see you tomorrow.” He makes a hasty retreat, ignoring another concerned call of his name from Steve.

He takes in shaky breaths as he walks, trying not to fall into the pit of self deprecation that wants to consume him. 

This was supposed to be his moment. Asking Steve to prom was supposed to be point of this school year that turned around and didn’t bite him in the ass. Of course, because the universe seriously hates him, it didn’t turn out that way.

He must be the antagonist of Peggy’s movie, or something.

Bucky decides, pushing the door home open, he wants to perfect his possible movie scene and act as melodramatic as possible. He ditches his backpack in the foyer, ignoring the cruch of the plastic wrapping the flowers, and heads to the kitchen for the chocolate ice cream he knows is in the freezer. 

With how this day and year went, he’s allowed to be melodramatic. 

Moments later, Becca finds him eating his heart out in the kitchen. Tub of ice cream in front of him, bowl clutched to his chest like a lifeline, his spoon a sword to fight off all his feelings. He forgot today was her day off.

Becca frowns, pulling the gallon of ice cream and scoop towards her. “Why do you look crushed?” 

Bucky shrugs, stuffing another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. “Cones are in the cabinet,” he says through the cold mix of strawberry and chocolate.

“What happened, Buck?” She asks, taking the box of cones out of the cabinet.

Bucky considers not telling her. He thinks about playing it off as brooding through the end of his high school career, or being upset about RISD again, but he knows she’ll figure what’s wrong sooner or later. “Steve’s going with Peggy to prom.” Rip the band aid off.

Becca stops filling her cone. “I thought they broke up.”

“So did I.” He pokes at the ice cream with his spoon, trying not to frown so hard he pouts. He doesn’t think Steve would ever keep anything from him but this- him not going stag- came out of the blue. Then again, Bucky didn’t really listen to how Steve and Peggy going to prom became a thing. He doesn’t know if they’re going as a couple or friends, or who asked who. He just ran away. That should sum up his life.

“Oh,” Becca says, realization filling her voice, “You were going to ask him today.”

Bucky nods, slightly hanging his head into the ice cream bowl, “Yeah, I was.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Becca says, patting his back, her cone in the other hand.

Bucky watches the ice cream melt, “Me too.”

* * *

The music is pounding, thumping through the floor and vibrating through his veins. Instead of being on the dance floor- here he wants to and _should_ be- he’s sitting at the table watching over everyone’s blazers and purses. 

This past week was awkward with Steve. He kept his distance, decided to lick his wounds and not let those wounds be noticeable. If Steve brought up prom, Bucky changed the subject. If he saw Steve and Peggy in the hallway, he’d walk the other way. Bucky did anything and everything in his power to not have to deal with the fact that his best friend unknowingly broke his heart. He went as far as trying to weasel his way out of going to prom but Natasha slapped his cheeks and told him he was being ridiculous. Which, in hindsight, he was.

Doesn’t mean he’s going to stop being ridiculous now.

He looks up when someone pulls the chair next to him out and sighs, “Natasha.”

Natasha sits down, her red dress spilling onto the floor beyond the chair. She pops the coke can she brought with her open, long nails not getting in her way. “James,” She says coolly, taking a sip of her drink. Her lipstick transfers to the can.

Bucky leans back in his seat. “How can I help you?”

“Why aren’t you dancing?” She asks, getting right to the point.

“Don’t feel like it,” He lies, an obvious lie. She and everyone else close to him knows he loves to dance. He has more rhythm than white boy should and he loves rubbing that fact in his friend’s faces. 

Natasha eyes him, fingernail tapping the can. “Is it because of Steve?”

Bucky sighs roughly, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Even if he wanted to keep talking about it he couldn’t seeing as he has to scream over the music to speak. He can already feel his voice going out.

“I love Steve,” Natasha says, sipping her soda, “but fuck him. Go dance, have fun, ignore the fact that he ignores how you feel.”

He looks up at her, feeling haggard. “I can’t.” He looks out to the dance floor, where he can’t see Steve but knows that he’s there, “He means too much.”

She frowns, strobe lights flashing against her skin. “How long have you been harboring this crush?”

Natasha doesn’t know the whole story, he never told her, but she knows enough. “Since I was a little kid.”

“Shit,” She sighs, leaning back in her own seat. 

The genuine reply surprises him. He wasn’t expecting that from the outwardly cold Natasha but he guesses learning that his crush on Steve has lasted since he was a kid would elicit that response. “Shit,” He agrees, wishing he was old enough to knock back a stiff one as to add to the effect. 

If it could be any other way between himself and Steve, he’d let it. If he could give up his crush right now, he would. He’d do anything not to feel so hollow and broken every time he thinks of Steve. But he can’t. He’s never felt the way he does for anyone but Steve. It’s both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he wouldn’t want to be in love with anyone but then his best friend. A curse because he’s his best friend’s shoulder, and that’s all he’ll ever be.

He sticks his hands in his pocket, feeling the keys to his mom’s car, and sighs, “I think I’m going to head home early.”

Natasha just stares, not trying to stop him, “Be safe.” She doesn’t tell him to stay or make him dance and he’s grateful for that. She knows why he doesn’t want to be here anymore, why being next to Steve this last week made him stiff and awkward, she knows it all. It’s embarrassing that she knows these things- knows that his crush is unrequited- but he’s also glad. Now she gets to have his back, now she gets to be his shoulder,

With a nod, Bucky heaves himself up from his seat, and gives Natasha a grateful pat on the shoulder. He pauses for a moment to watch the crowd dance, knowing that Steve’s there and wishes for a moment that was with him. He wishes he could end his high school career like he started it: with his best friend. Bucky sighs again, averting his eyes from the pulsing crowd to the floor. He turns on his heel, away from Natasha, away from the crowd, away from _Steve_ , and walks to the door. 

The air’s thick and humid when he walks out to the parking lot. There’s scattered couples making out around the courtyard, and a security guard looking incredibly bored sitting at the entrance. He bypasses all of them and takes quick steps to the car, hoping that Steve won’t notice his absence. The last thing he wants is to ruin Steve’s night as well.

Bucky unlocks the car and settles in the seat, sticking the key in the ignition but not turning on the vehicle. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, sighing roughly. He thought his luck was getting better, that things were looking up. He thought the end of the year was going to be better than the beginning. That he was going to actually look forward to going to NYU, that he and Steve were going make the jump from best friends to boyfriends. He thought he had a chance. That’s not the case, apparently.

With another sigh, Bucky drops his hands from his eyes and turns the ignition. He’ll have to face Steve and his questions on Monday, but that’s Monday. He has tonight and tomorrow to wallow in his own self pity and he plans on doing just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rebloggable Post](http://ghosterik.tumblr.com/post/151351744395/propinquity-n-by-earthseraph-pesmenos)


	5. 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky sighs, his heart heavy. He rolls over to his side, using his hands as a pillow on the rough carpet. He stares at the mess under his bed. Shoes, socks, a shirt, and the iPod Nano he thought he lost last month. 
> 
> He pulls one of his hands out from under his head and gently drags the Nano by the headphones to him. The metal’s cold when he picks it up, having been lost under his bed where drafts of cold air come through, but it warms quickly. With the same hand Bucky slips one of the headphones into his ear, frowning at the iPod when he presses the ‘play’ button. To his surprise, it has some charge left and music plays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

_Age 18, 2004_

Bucky knows that whatever’s happening to him is probably just seasonal depression. It’s probably because it’s cold outside with soot filled slush around every corner. The sky lacks sun, his body vitamin D, which brings it full circle to the fact that he’s felt down in the dumps all day and doesn’t know how to pull himself out of it. 

This feeling- emptiness, a cavern in his chest, constant lump in the back of his throat- comes and goes after a night’s sleep. It’s annual, nothing more or less, but that doesn’t mean that whatever he’s feeling doesn’t actually suck. Because it does. Boy does it ever. It makes him want to hate the world and put himself down whenever he does the slightest thing wrong. It makes him want to curl up on the floor he’s currently laying on and just cry, but he doesn’t. He just lays and stares at the ceiling, hoping he’ll feel better soon.

Bucky considers picking up his phone from where it rests next to him on the floor and calling someone. Not his sister because she’s actually home, but a friend. He could call Natasha but it’s Saturday afternoon and she’s probably at ballet practice. Wherever Natasha is Clint follows, so he’s out of the possible people he could call. Any of his newly made friends would probably be confused as to why Bucky’s calling them for anything but help on the project, and he doesn’t feel like breaching a new point in any friendships. All that leaves is Steve. 

Steve who will always be Bucky’s best friend, despite the fact that Bucky hasn’t talked to him in weeks. He’s not angry with Steve about that, just bitter. He understands that Steve has new friends, a new life, over in Rhode Island but he just wishes Steve would take a moment to remember to call him. To remember him, in general.

Friendship, in Bucky’s opinion, is a two way street. He can’t be the only one to try keeping in contact without the other person- whomever they may be- doing the same. Besides, if Bucky calls Steve out of the blue he’s either going to get unreasonably angry, or start crying over the line. Both of which Steve doesn’t deserve.

So, the phone stays by his head.

Bucky’s not unhappy, per se, with his life in New York. He gets to live at home with his family, something he would have missed desperately if he went to Rhode Island. His mom and dad are less stressed with these living arrangements and he gets to see Becca every day, which is a plus. NYU is a good school, it’s not RISD, but it’s nothing bad. Bucky doesn’t mind the architecture program, it’s rigorous but that’s what he signed up for. He didn’t go in thinking the projects and math would be easy because they’re not and he doesn’t mind. He likes all the work he has to put into his projects, the accomplishment that comes after along with the victory nap. 

So, in reality he shouldn’t feel this upset, he has no need to.

Except that he does. There’s one person missing in his life, one person he was supposed to spend his life with no matter the circumstances. That person’s Steve. 

Steve who’s out in Rhode Island living his dream. Steve who offered to stay back but because Bucky couldn’t do that to him told him to go. Steve who doesn’t call or text unless Bucky’s the one to initiate it. Steve who Bucky misses with all his heart but can’t do a damn thing about it because Steve’s in Rhode Island, and Bucky’s here in New York trying to put the pieces of himself back together with tape and glue.

Bucky sighs, his heart heavy. He rolls over to his side, using his hands as a pillow on the rough carpet. He stares at the mess under his bed. Shoes, socks, a shirt, and the iPod Nano he thought he lost last month. 

He pulls one of his hands out from under his head and gently drags the Nano by the headphones to him. The metal’s cold when he picks it up, having been lost under his bed where drafts of cold air come through, but it warms quickly. With the same hand Bucky slips one of the headphones into his ear, frowning at the iPod when he presses the ‘play’ button. To his surprise, it has some charge left and music plays.

_And when I see you_  
_I really see you upside down_  
_But my brain knows better_  
_It picks you up and turns you around_

Bucky blinks, tiny pins pricking behind his eyes. He admits that he forgot he downloaded songs onto his iPod that he secretly dedicated for Steve. Songs that Steve will never know Bucky listens to and only thinks of him. He doesn’t remember when he started making a connection between music and Steve, or when those songs travelled into his iPod, but here he is. Laying on the floor listening to Death Cab for Cutie.

This iPod is proof he’s been gone on Steve for as long as he can remember. 

It was a little crush in elementary school, one he didn’t understand all too well because he was too young. He always thought the love he felt for Steve was what everyone felt for their best friend. Butterflies in his stomach, a smile on his lips that would always spread when he saw Steve, something undying he couldn’t put his little finger on because he didn’t understand. He just assumed that what he was feeling for Steve was normal. Until he realized he didn’t have crushes on any of the girls in his class. He didn’t want to pull their pigtails or give them valentine cards. If he wanted to do that to anyone it was Steve. It kept being Steve, it was always Steve, and it always _is_ Steve. That probably won’t ever change.

Nobody’s ever made him feel as much as Steve has. Nobody’s ever worried him when they were sick and stayed home from school for days, or got him into a fight that ended with a black eye and a broken pinkie that he’ll never regret. Nobody’s ever made him feel like his day was going to be better just because he got to see their face and hear their laugh. Nobody’s ever made him feel like he was being left behind, like he doesn’t know how to continue because they’re slowly slipping out of his life. No matter the emotion, be it negative or positive, Steve’s always amplified them.

_To call at 7:03 and on your machine I slur a plea for you to come home_  
_But i know it's too late_  
_I should have given you a reason to stay_  
_Given you a reason to stay_

Bucky sighs again. He rolls over on his back to stare at the ceiling once more, listening to the sad melody of the song that sums up his life. 

He’s too caught up in the song and his emotions that he doesn’t notice when Becca lays next to him on the floor.

“So,” she says, taking the headphone not in his ear and popping it into her own, “what’re we listening to?”

Bucky jumps, trying to cover it as a cough. “Death Cab for Cutie.” 

Becca hums, folding her hands over her stomach. A moment passes before she speaks, “Well this is kinda’ depressing.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, elbowing her in the side. “If you’re going to listen to my music don’t talk mess about it.” He doesn’t mention that this music is dedicated to Steve, or that it means more to him than any old song.

“Fine, fine,” She says, raising her hands, “you’re the DJ i’m just along for the ride.”

“Exactly.”

Neither of them speak through the rest of the song. _Lack of Color_ ends and Hoobastank’s _You’re The Reason_ plays.

“Do you miss Steve?” Becca asks softly.

They haven’t talked about Steve leaving. Becca’s tried before but it’s a sore subject for Bucky. One he doesn’t like to think about and would rather pretend never happened.

He takes in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Yeah.”

Becca nods. She doesn’t say anything more, just nods and takes his hand in hers. 

He lets out another deep breath that has nothing to do with Steve. Becca gets him, she always has and always will. She doesn’t push or pry, just listens and speaks her mind when he needs to hear it. She’s his best friend and sister mixed into one person and she can read him like nobody else. She doesn’t speak her mind, in this moment, just lays next to him because she knows he just needs someone in his corner. He just needs to have a moment to listen to sad music and wallow in his own feelings. To think things over, think things through. About his life now and what it’ll be like in the future. About the dependence he has on a single person and what that means for him.

Slowly, but surely the cavern in his chest fills. With each hum to the song from his sister, with tap of her finger to the beat of the song against the back of his hand, he feels like the cavern fill with warmth instead of cold sorrow. 

He feels like he’s going to get better. 

It doesn’t all come from his sister, it’s from his own self too. Her being here, though, like a solid wall, makes him feel better. It makes him feel a little less taped and glued and a little more whole. He knows it’s just seasonal depression, that it’ll be gone sooner or later, but feeling _whole_ , like he’s one person, feels better than anything has today.

 _Breakaway_ by Kelly Clarkson plays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> URL change to Ghosterik for halloween, forgot to mention that.
> 
>  
> 
> [Rebloggable Post](http://ghosterik.tumblr.com/post/151666605525/propinquity-n-by-earthseraph-pesmenos)


	6. 2006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was walking from the studio to my dorm and some drunk asshole ran into me. His arm or something punched through my canvas and before I could do anything he took off. Fucking coward.” There’s shifting on the other side of the line and Bucky knows that Steve just brushed his hair back from his forehead, “I wouldn’t make a such a big deal about the canvas but it’s for my final, Buck. I can’t fail this class.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this super late update but the end of the semester is around the corner and most of my Saturdays have been spent judging high school debates so fitting this fic into my schedule has been very hard. Also, if you'll look at the tags I added some new ones, along with how many chapters are left.

_Age 20, 2006_

Bucky’s a light sleeper. Someone walks past his room? He wakes up. Car drives by blasting music? He wakes up. Something falls of his bed? He wakes the hell up. It’s terrible, and trying to fall back to sleep is another story. Which is why when Bucky hears his phone vibrating on his nightstand he’s pissed. There’s no other reaction he has to being rudely awakened than pissed.

Bucky grabs his phone off the nightstand, and yanks it off the charger. He’s not looking at who’s calling him when he answers, and snaps into the phone: “What?” It’s finals season, who in their right mind would call him at some ungodly time in the morning?

The line’s silent for a moment. “Nice to hear from you, too.”

It’s like all the anger floods out of Bucky’s person. He doesn’t give a damn what time it is, or the fact that he has his physics final tomorrow afternoon, because it’s Steve. Steve who he hasn’t talked to in weeks because they keep calling each other at inconvenient times. Steve who he misses and wants to come back home because without him it feels like there’s a hole in his heart that he can’t fill. Steve who he wants to get over, who he wants to stop being so attached to but can’t. 

He just can’t.

“Hey,” Bucky breaths into the line, “hey, Steve.” He slowly relaxes back into the bed, eyes now open and staring at the dark ceiling. The fan whirrs above him in the silence, blowing warm central air onto his skin.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve sighs. It’s not a sigh out of negativity but one out of relief. Like Steve thought Bucky wasn’t going to answer the phone or like he was going to stay mad at the fact that Steve woke him up. If it was anyone else Bucky would stay pissed, but it’s Steve. That little fact changes everything.

Bucky shifts the phone against his ear. “How’s it going?” The last time they talked it was before thanksgiving break. Steve couldn’t make it home and he wanted to call to wish Bucky a good one. Bucky admits he wasn’t pleasant that day but he was rightfully unpleasant. He missed Steve and he was looking forward to those three days of seeing him since Steve went back to Rhode Island in August. Not seeing Steve was almost a sign that he was losing him completely. 

These last few years without Steve in New York have been painful ones, but it’s Steve’s senior year. He’ll be coming home soon and nothing has Bucky more excited than that.

“Not great, if I’m being honest,” Steve says with a mirthless laugh.

Bucky frowns, sitting up on his bed, ready to fly to Rhode Island and beat up who or whatever is preventing Steve from feeling great. “What’s wrong?”

Steve sighs, tired, “I was walking from the studio to my dorm and some drunk asshole ran into me. His arm or something punched through my canvas and before I could do anything he took off. Fucking coward.” There’s shifting on the other side of the line and Bucky knows that Steve just brushed his hair back from his forehead, “I wouldn’t make a such a big deal about the canvas but it’s for my final, Buck. I can’t fail this class.”

“You can’t fix it?” Bucky asks, ideas running through his brain that could potentially help Steve out, “Tape the canvas, or something?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve pauses, “It’s more than a rip. It’s a hole and it’s due in two days.”

“What class is it for?” Steve’s in his senior year. This project is his final. Bucky will do everything in his power to help Steve salvage the piece and turn it in. He’ll do everything he can from this side of the eastern seaboard. 

“Paint theories,” Steve says, probably shrugging, “all it requires is paint being an aspect in the piece.” 

Bucky nods, biting on his lip in thought. He hums, teeth digging into his skin before snapping the fingers on his free hand, “Couldn’t you just use plaster? Patch up the canvas and try to add a sculptural aspect to it?” Bucky knows the idea isn’t the best for Steve’s time frame, but it’s better than showing up to class with a hole in his canvas.

“Sculpture isn’t my forte and you know that,” Steve says, pout obvious even over the line.

“I know,” Bucky sighs, leaning his elbow against his knee, propping himself up, “3D was always my thing.” He smiles slightly, remembering all the frowning Steve would do when they would move away from paints and pencils in art to clay and papier mâché. 

Something shifts over the line. Steve probably went over to his painting to inspect the damage and potential of saving it, Bucky can visualize him with a hand on his hip and a frown on his lips. “What kind of sculpture? My painting was of the Brooklyn Bridge. A very Dali inspired Brooklyn Bridge.”

Bucky thinks of Dali and his melting clocks and the heat that would come from looking at the paintings. “You could have the painting come out of the canvas with a sculpture?” Bucky knows the idea isn’t something that a sane person would attempt to make in the span of two days. This, though, is Steve. Steve isn’t all that sane.

Steve hums over the line, “That’s an idea.” 

“It’s a damn good idea if you can execute it.” Bucky’s not shy about admitting that fact. If Steve can get it done, and it looks good, he’ll definitely pass the class. Bucky knows that without a doubt in his mind. 

“I can,” Steve says, probably squaring his shoulders. “If I take a short nap, drink a shot of espresso, I can finish this.”

“I’m not doubting you.” Bucky grins, “But don’t kill yourself over this project, Steve.” Finals are important, but not deathly-important. Bucky’s an architecture major and even he knows this. He sleeps under his desk at the studio, takes showers in the gym, all to be closer to his work and even he knows dying over a final isn’t worth it. 

“I won’t, Buck.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. Long enough that Bucky lays back down and pulls the covers up his chest. Long enough that Bucky worries that they lost connection or one of them accidentally hung up on the other, when Steve speaks.

“Thank you for helping me,” Steve says softly, “I know it’s really late and you probably have finals tomorrow but I didn’t know who else to call.” He pauses for a moment, sighing, “There wasn’t anyone else I wanted to talk to about this. As dumb as it is.”

“It’s not dumb,” Bucky says, “you can talk to me about anything, you know that.” 

Despite the fact that Bucky might nod off during his final tomorrow, he’s glad Steve called him. The fine arts are all about competition, about being better than the next person, if Steve told one of his Rhode Island friends who knows how that would have gone. Not only that, but this call gave Bucky a little hope. Hope that their friendship isn’t in the weeds, and that Steve still feels like he can talk to Bucky about anything. It salved over the pain from Thanksgiving and makes him even more eager for Steve to come home during winter break. Their friendship has been through the wringer since Steve left to Rhode Island- since Bucky didn’t get in- but it’s still alive. It’s still holding on, and that’s all Bucky needs.

Steve yawns, “I know, I know.” He makes a small grunting sound, like he’s shaking the sleepiness off, “I should let you go, let you sleep.”

Bucky doesn’t want to hang up, not now when they’re finally talking, but he knows he needs to. He can’t screw up his final grade because he wanted to stay up talking with Steve. No matter how important Steve is to him he needs the physics credit for his degree which means he needs to pass.

“Call me tomorrow?” Bucky asks, hope like a fire in his stomach.

“Definitely, who else do you think is going to have to deal with me and this project?”

Bucky chuckles, grinning into the line, “I’ll be waiting, then.”

Silence washes over them once more. Bucky’s grin turns into a soft smile as he holds the phone, Steve doing the same in Rhode Island.

“Take your nap, Stevie, and make sure to call me tomorrow,” Bucky finally says. 

“I will, Buck. Good luck on your finals.”

Bucky nods, “Thanks, you too.”

“Goodnight,” Steve says one last time, yawning into the line, before hanging up.

Bucky pulls the phone away from his ear and stares down at the black screen. He takes in a deep breath before flipping it close and plugging it back into the charger. With a sigh, he leans back into the mattress, pulling the blanket up to his chin. 

Talking to Steve made his night. He can’t even be mad at the time because of it. Sure, he’s going to be tired tomorrow but that doesn’t mean he’s going to fail his final. He’s studied enough for it that he knows he won’t. He also knows that Steve’s going to call him tomorrow. Two calls with Steve within the span of- technically- a day is like Christmas for Bucky. 

Bucky adjusts the pillow under his head and closes his eyes. 

If he dreams about Steve, that’s between himself and his unconscious-consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rebloggable Post](http://ghosterik.tumblr.com/post/152344402975/propinquity-n-by-earthseraph)


	7. 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for drunk kissing

_Age 21, 2007_

Natasha and Clint’s tiny living room is packed with their usual friend crowd. Steve- in all his birthday boy glory- right in the center. His cheeks are rosy with the all the alcohol he’s downed, his hair a mess of confetti and sweat. Over all, he looks pretty damn perfect and Bucky can’t help but unabashedly grin at him from his place on the couch.

If Bucky could he would blame his goofy grin on alcohol, but he’s unfortunately very sober. As sober as the day he got his driver’s license, if he had to describe how much alcohol there _isn’t_ in his system. It’s not necessarily a bad thing- being sober, that is. 

Since he’s not getting drunk off his ass he can watch Steve have fun without being worried about accidentally confessing to Steve about his crush. He can make sure Steve doesn’t make a fool of himself or poisons himself with too much alcohol. He can keep an eye on all his friends just in case they try to do anything stupid. Most of all he can just watch and focus on Steve while everyone else thinks he’s just being mature for taking role of Sober Friend. 

While Bucky’s loved the fact that Steve graduated from RISD and came back to New York; it hasn’t been the easiest of transitions. For Bucky, that is. This past year of Steve being back has been the best and worst. Bucky’s used to only seeing Steve for a couple of months throughout the year but now Steve’s everywhere. Bucky will come home from class and Steve will be sitting in the kitchen with his mom, Steve considering job options with her help. Bucky will get out of class only to see Steve sitting in the hallway waiting for him. Bucky will mention some exhibit he wants to go see and Steve will suddenly have tickets. It’s both amazing and terrifying. 

With Steve’s old schedule Bucky didn’t have to worry about his crush. His crush stayed a low simmer in his stomach, the warmest but smallest part of his heart. It was alway something that was pushed to the back of his mind. Never really a thing he needed to think about unless something made him do so. Now, though, everything’s making him think about it. Steve’s in every corner in his life, and he loves it, but the worry of his crush slipping from between his lips is always there. Around Steve Bucky isn’t sure whether he should have his guard up or down. Whether his tongue should be relaxed or restrained. It’s a confusing cycle. The fear of being too relaxed and saying something but the torture of not being able to tell Steve everything hurts.

“Your crush is showing,” Natasha snorts, plopping down on the couch next to him. The shot of what Bucky assumes is vodka somehow not splashing over the rim. 

Bucky tries to school his look, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He leans down and sniffs the shot, grimacing, “That’s strong as hell vodka you got there.”

She tosses the shot back, licking her lips when she’s done. “Only the best for me.” She leans back into the couch, her eyes on where Steve, Tony, Clint, and Thor are all playing Jenga, Sam and Riley cheering them on, “Why haven’t you told him yet?”

“Nat,” Bucky sighs, aware that the music is probably covering their conversation but that there’s almost two dozen pairs of ears that could be listening in.

“He’s been back for a year and you’ve been crushing on him since the dawn of time.” She shrugs a shoulder, “You two should have gotten married by now but even Clint and I beat you.”

Bucky grins at the memory of their wedding. It was the year before, a month or so after her graduation. The event was simple, classy, but obviously done with money because Natasha’s family wouldn’t do for less and think Clint is some kind of American prince. Everyone got drunk on her parent’s vodka despite being underage, and Bucky was an inch away from confessing his undying love via a Snow Patrol song before God struck down on him and made him run to the bathroom and barf his stomach up in a toilet.

Bucky frowns.

“Hell, Pepper and Tony just met and they’re probably planning their wedding.” She nod to Sam, “I’m pretty sure he’s a second away to confessing his undying love to Riley. Then there’s Thor with his girlfriend on the other side of America that I know he has a ring for. And--”

“I get it, Nat,” Bucky sighs, rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and slumps himself further into the couch. “I just don’t want to screw anything up. This friendship has been a long time in the making.” He remembers the day he and Steve traded those green bracelets. Sealing their friendship between each other in a way they were too young to understand. He doesn’t know where the bracelet went, where it disappeared to, but he doesn’t need that. He doesn’t need a visual representation of his friendship with Steve when he already has the man himself. 

“If your friendship is as strong as you claim it to be, then a confession shouldn’t hurt anything. _You_ might hurt, but the friendship shouldn’t.” Natasha hands him her empty shot glass, “Bring me another shot, lover boy.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but takes the glass nonetheless. 

He weaves between people on his way to the kitchen, passing the shot glass between his hands as he goes. 

The small kitchen is a wreck. There’s bottles of alcohol and juices on every inch of the counter. The island is a mess with opened bags of snacks, some of them spilling onto the floor. Bucky sighs deeply and looks up at the ceiling for guidance. He knows he should get Natasha her shot and be done but he can’t just leave the kitchen in the state it’s in. Everyone’s going to be too drunk to clean up later and they’re all going to be too hungover to clean it in the morning. He might as well do it now. 

Bucky sets the glass down at the edge of a counter, very aware that it could fall, and roots under the sink for trash bags. The first thing he focuses on his the island. Empty bags and boxes get thrown away, partially empty things get devoured by him, and everything else gets organized. He goes through the same process for the drinks but instead of drinking the tiny bit of alcohol left he just pours it down the sink and recycles the bottles. 

“Buck!” Steve yells, making Bucky jump, “What’re you doing?”

Bucky gets his heart under control- he wasn’t expecting Steve- and turns around, “Cleaning up all all you dork’s mess.”

Steve hums, leaning against the sink. His cheeks are rosey, eyes glassy, and he looks like he’s the happiest he’s ever been.

“You having a good time, Stevie?” Bucky asks, tying the bag and setting it to the side. He takes two steps closer to Steve, leaning against the sink next to Steve.

“Best birthday ever, hands down.” Steve grins, looking up at Bucky, “Wanna’ know what would make it better?”

Bucky mirrors Steve’s grin, it’s infectious, “What?”

Steve waves him closer, Bucky leans in. He’s close enough he can smell the alcohol on Steve’s breath, so close he can feel how warm Steve is. He doesn’t register what’s happening until it does. Until Steve’s leaning up on his toes, pulling Bucky down by the shirt, and smashing their mouths together. He doesn’t want to say it’s like watching a car crash, but it is. 

Bucky makes a sound, not expecting the kiss, and firmly does not kiss back. Steve’s drunk, he can smell it on his clothes and breath. Steve isn’t in his right mind and doesn’t know what he’s doing. Steve is kissing him because his alcohol brain told him to. Steve doesn’t want to kiss him sober. The fact that he isn’t reciprocating- not that he doesn’t want to- doesn’t seem to faze Steve because he keeps going on his merry way. Pressing open mouthed kisses to Bucky’s closed lips, it’s sloppy and Bucky’s enforcing all the restraint he has in his body to not kiss him back. 

A moment later Steve pulls back with a self satisfied smile on his lips. He wordlessly pats Bucky on the chest before turning around on his heel and leaving the kitchen like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just make out with his best friend who didn’t move an inch the entire time but stood as still as a statue. Like this hasn’t been their first kiss since 2002 when Steve needed help before his date with Peggy. Like Bucky hasn’t been dreaming of kissing Steve again since that time all those years ago. 

Bucky wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and blinks, trying to collect himself. He takes in a deep breath, turning around to lean his back against the sink and looks at the ceiling. He hopes, prays to whatever god listening, that Steve won’t remember the kiss tomorrow morning. It’ll be better for all of them since Steve doesn’t want to kiss him sober and Bucky oh so desperately does. 

With another breath Bucky pushes himself away from the counter. He picks up Natasha’s empty shot glass and fills it, wishing for a moment that he wasn’t the only sober one in the house and that he could just knock this back. Instead of drinking it like he wants to he schools himself- not wanting Natasha to know about this- and leaves the kitchen. 

He’s concealed his crush for years, now should be no different.


	8. 2010

**24, 2010**

The invitation burns in his hand as Bucky stares at it. It’s black with white in the center for the text, covered in a nice wax paper, all the letters are some sort of foiled gold. He looks up at the stack of unopened letters on the dining room table where it somehow got lost between he and Steve’s mail. Somehow an invitation to the Stark gala got lost in their mail, and somehow- despite Bucky working at the Stark Tower- he didn’t know this event even existed.

“Steve!” Bucky yells, still looking down at the letter in a mix of pure fear and excitement. He can hear the sound of Steve’s bare feet against the wooden floors of their apartment before he sees him and mentally rolls his eyes. When Steve gets sick all he’s getting is some Theraflu and a pair of slippers from Bucky. Sympathy isn’t included in that list.

“What?” Steve asks, coming to a stop next to him at the table.

Bucky tares his eyes away from Steve and looks down at the card, “Did you know there’s a Stark gala this weekend?”

Steve frowns, and pulls the card out of Bucky’s hands, “No.” His hair’s a mess and he’s wearing the ugliest pair of black rimmed glasses that Bucky’s ever seen. He looks adorable.

“Well, there is, and my penguin suit needs to be steamed.” He pushes himself away from the table and goes over to the coffee machine. He goes through the motions of making himself a cup, all the things he has to do today running through his head. Bucky jumps when something hits the back of his head and turns around to see Steve frowning at him, “Were you talking to me?” Steve should be used to him momentarily blocking him out while he thinks the day over.

Steve rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, “It says you need a plus one. Who’re you going to take on such short notice?”

Bucky snorts and turns back around to grab his thermos from the cabinet, “You, of course. Who else would I take?” He makes sure to stay focused on the dripping coffee and not on Steve’s silence. 

“When you take your suit take mine too,” Steve says finally. Bucky hears some puttering around the kitchen before Steve’s sliding up to him, mug in hand. “You have work today?”

Bucky nods, there’s butterflies in his stomach. “Yeah, Stark wants to see the blueprint for the greenhouses we got cleared to put in some of the inner city parks.” Graduating from NYU, while not the university he wanted to attend, gave him a lot of opportunities. One being an internship with Stark Industries that got him a full blown job. Now, he’s on the team of Eco Architects for Stark with one goal: help make infrastructure Green.

Steve pats Bucky’s elbow, his fingers cold from anemia, “He loves all your stuff, you know that. If he wasn’t married to Pepper I’m pretty sure he’d be trying to woo you with the best office and supplies.”

Bucky snorts, pulling the carafe out. He pours some into Steve’s mug before filling his own, “I already have the best office.”

“Then the wooing has begun,” Steve laughs, dumping sugar into his mug, “I’ll give you my suit before you go.”

Bucky nods, “I’ll run them down to the cleaner’s and pick them up tomorrow.” He turns to Steve, hip against the counter as his coffee cools to a drinkable temperature, “Do I need a haircut?”

Steve looks away from his mug and up at Bucky, eyes squinting. He makes a chopping motion with his hand on the side of Bucky’s head before snorting, “Nah.” And then leaves the kitchen with his mug.

Bucky just rolls his eyes and continues fixing his coffee.

* * *

The gala’s in full swing and Bucky cannot take his eyes off of Steve. 

Steve’s dressed to the nines in a slim fit suit. His shirt’s a deep red that brings out the natural flush in his cheeks, his hair is neatly slicked back, and he has a pair of wire framed glasses that Bucky don’t know where they came from but knows they make Steve look far too attractive for his own good. Bucky should really drag his eyes away, either that or fess up to his crush. Which is something he’s been thinking about doing.

Bucky’s been wanting to do something about his feelings for Steve instead of ignoring his them or painfully pining over Steve. It’s been over a decade since his feels for Steve came to be, and they’ve been living with each other for close to three years. Being in close quarters with Steve these past few years has brought things into perspective for Bucky. Steve’s never gone on a date in that time, but prefers to spend time with Bucky. Steve hardly lets his eyes drift to other potential significant others, not even when Bucky’s the one to point them out to him. Hell, they’re practically dating minus everything else added to a friendship that makes a relationship. He might as well make his own intentions clear before Steve- who probably, _maybe_ returns his feelings- decides to continue on with his life.

“James!”

Bucky turns around on his heel, snapped out of his wandering thoughts. “Pepper!” Bucky smiles, accepting the kiss she places on his cheek, “Looking great, as usual.” He moves his eyes to where Tony’s grinning at him behind his orange tinted sunglasses, “You too, I guess.”

Pepper smiles with a slight roll of her of her eyes. 

“You didn’t tell us you’re dating someone.” Tony blurts, like he was unable to keep it in. A waiter passes by them with a tray of champagne and Tony hastily grabs three flutes. He hands one to Pepper and one to Bucky, “I know Pepper and I are technically your bosses but I thought the three of us were more like friends.”\

Bucky frowns, but takes a sip of his champagne. He lets it bubble in his mouth before swallowing and asking: “Who am I dating?” He’s not sure who his mysterious significant other is but he wants to know. He has a slight inkling of a thought as to who they’re talking about, but he’s not going to confirm or deny until they give him the correct name.

“Steven, of course.” Pepper mirrors Bucky’s frown, “Are you not?”

“Unfortunately not, ma’am.” There’s a sad smile on Bucky’s lips, he can feel it. The glass of champagne is cold between his fingers as he takes another drink of it before looking back up and out to where Steve is animatedly talking to Rhodey.

“But you want to?” Tony asks, uncaring to the fragility of the situation.

Bucky nods, his eyes still on Steve, “Have wanted to since I was a kid. Never really did anything about it.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling them, but it feels nice to do it, like a weight off his chest. 

He remembers the time he tried to ask Steve to prom during his senior year only to find out Steve was going with Peggy instead. He later learned that they only went as friends and that Steve looked for him all night until Natasha told Steve he went home. He remembers the drunken kiss Steve gave him a couple years ago, the slight confession that went along with it, but Steve never brought it up again. Out of embarrassment or forgetfulness, Bucky isn’t sure. He remembers wanting to tell Steve about his feelings so badly it almost made him sick, but held back out of fear of ruining their friendship. But he’s older now and he can’t wait for romantic love from Steve that may never happen.

“I would go for it,” Pepper says quietly, “if you don’t ask you’ll never know.” She tilts her head in his direction, like she’s letting him in on a secret, “I saw the way both of you looked at each other tonight. It’s the way I look at Tony and he looks at me.” She smiles, it’s a small and private thing.

Tony, ruining the moment, says: ”And if Pepper and I are both wrong- which we never are- I’ll send you on whatever dream vacation you want to go on, full fare, with paid leave.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, “Tony--”

“Come on, Pep. If there’s not a bargaining chip in place than what’s the fun?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at both of them, “You’re that sure about this?” He’s the head architect on the team. The one with the most knowledge about plants and horticulture. With him gone for a month the team will fall back on their projects and have to rely on their minimal plant knowledge. Having him gone for a month, completely paid, will set Stark Industries back. 

“I’m positive.” Tony grins, like he just placed money on his favorite racing horse.

Pepper just smiles and shrugs her shoulders.

“Now, Pepper and I have more important things than to talk to a lowly employee.” He mock bows before whisking Pepper away with a tug on her elbow. Both of them merging with a crowd of people, looking for someone else that Tony can terrorize.

Bucky watches them for a moment before snorting. Of course they couldn’t be like normal friends and just tell him to do something about his feeling for Steve. They had to go on and add a vacation and leave with pay on the line. It’s tempting to just not tell Steve about his feeling and cash in the vacation, but he’s not that kind of person. He wouldn’t have fun being alone in some foreign country, because despite the fact that Steve’s oblivious to his feelings he’s still his best friend. No matter what, Bucky would probably want Steve to go on a vacation with him. If not Steve he’d drag Becca with him, but her hours at the hospital are impossible to change.

With a sigh Bucky takes another sip from his glass and lets his eyes drift back to Steve. 

Steve has a huge smile on his face. His hands are going this and that way as he talks to Rhodey, one occasionally brushing his hair away from his eyes. There’s a flush to his cheeks that’s either from alcohol or the heat of wearing a suit in a room full of people. Steve catches Bucky’s eye and his grin breaks out wider. He turns back to Rhodey, mentioning something, before waving Bucky over.

Bucky’s a little breathless from the grin but nods.

He’s going to confess to Steve. Tell him how much he loves him, how much he cares for him, in hopes that Steve feels the same way. He’s not sure how exactly he’s going to do it. Whether it’s going to even be this year, seeing as it’s late November, or the next. He just knows he’s going to do it.

Bucky nods to himself and knocks back the rest of the champagne. He takes a step towards where Steve and Rhodey are.

He’s got this.


	9. 2011

**24, 2011**

The gallery’s alive with people. Everyone has a flute of champagne in hand, all dressed to the nines in shiny slacks and smooth dresses. Steve’s art lines the walls. The thick strokes of paint on canvases stark against the pebbled, white walls. Next to those figure drawings rest. Profiles of people both familiar and not, bodies in motion and still. Some of them are rough sketches with thick charcoal, others are neat and colored in. Bucky loves them all. 

“You look love sick. It’s slightly disgusting but I’ll allow it.”

Bucky looks over at Natasha, a small smile on his face, “Shut up.”

She takes a sip of her champagne, not one lipstick stain on the rim of the glass when she lowers it from her lips. “You going to tell him tonight?” 

Bucky shrugs, watching as everyone takes in the art around them, “Maybe.” He’s been thinking of telling Steve ever since his talk with Pepper and Tony. He’s almost done it, too, but it’s never seemed right. It’s never been the right time. Call him a sap, but he wants the moment to be special when he admits his feelings. He’s waited years to tell Steve, might as well wait a little bit longer and do it right. 

Natasha looks over at him out of the corner of her eye, the dim lights reflecting off the green of them, “I don't know what you’re waiting for, or why you’ve waited this long, even.”

“I have my reasons.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, not waiting any liquid courage for this moment. He doesn’t want a single drop of champagne or alcohol clouding his judgement or slurring his words when he goes up to Steve. Not one single, tiny drop.

Natasha snorts, uncaring that the older people around her are probably shunning her for being unladylike. She passes her glass off to one of the waiters that walks by them, taking a small glass with two fingers of amber liquid instead, and points at him with her red manicured finger, “Today of all days I forbid you from being stupid.”

“I’m not going to be stupid--” he starts, only to be cut off by her speaking over him.

“As Steve’s other best friend, I am not allowing you to wallow in your own crush or let him stand around wondering when you’re going to get your head out of your ass and ask him out.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he can cross them over his chest like the petulant child that he is, “Fine, but I’m not doing this because you told me to. I’m doing this because I’ve been thinking about this for as long as I can remember, got it?” 

He’s been thinking about a day like this since he first knew what love was. Since Steve went out on his first date, since Steve went to prom with Peggy and Bucky was bitter inside. Since Steve went to Rhode Island and Bucky thought they were drifting too far apart for him to bring them back together. He knows that this pining isn’t the healthiest thing, but he’s tried. He’s thought of himself with other people, about dating someone not Steve, but those relationships never worked out in his head. Besides, if Natasha and basically everyone else thinks Steve loves him the same then what does he have to lose?

“Understood.” Natasha nods, her eyes facing the crowd of people looking at Steve’s art. Steve himself somewhere lost in the throng of praises and approval, “If you do ask tonight I’ll make sure to split the bet funds with you.”

“ _Bet_?” Bucky asks, incredulous when he shouldn’t be. All his friends are little shits that don’t know when to get their noses out of other people’s business. Tony and Pepper already have a bet with him, so he shouldn’t even have one hint of surprise in him.

“Clint thought you were going to say something on your birthday, Tony thought Valentine's, Sam and Riley thought Steve’s birthday, and I bet today.” She shrugs, taking a sip of the drink in her hand, “If you tell him today it’s a win. Technically a double win for you since you’ll get both the guy and the money, whereas I will only get money.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “And bragging rights.”

She tips her glass to that, a small smirk on her face, “And bragging rights.”

“I should ask on some random day so none of you fuckers win.” He should as on some random day when he and Steve are doing nothing more than sitting around in their sweats, watching terrible slasher movies on TV, and eating chinese food out of greasy take out boxes. He should as when they’re both in their natural, calm states. Not frazzled by work or projects, not stuffy in their best suits with their best cologne dabbed behind their ears. 

“But you wouldn’t,” Natasha says, turning to him, “because this is a special moment and you want it to be one of those, right?” She raises an eyebrow, almost tempting him to prove her wrong.

“You know full and well that I do,” He mumbles, conceding to Natasha and her devious ways.

“Then we both win,” She says simply, taking another drink from her glass.

Bucky rolls his eyes again, turning away from her to the crowd of people, “I wonder how different things would have been if I asked in high school.” He doesn’t regret not asking, necessarily, he just wonders how their lives would have been. Would they still be together? Would they be happy and in love or bitter and settling for the high school sweetheart? He doesn’t know if he wants to find out those things. He doesn’t want to know how different everything would have been, whether if the difference is for the better or worse, because he doesn’t want to see a life where he and Steve aren’t _Bucky and Steve_. 

He’s not naive enough to think he and Steve’s future relationship- if one comes to be- will be all rainbows and sunshine. Even with them just being best friends and roommates they fight. Sometimes Steve will forget to take out the trash, sometimes Bucky forgets to buy dairy free products because Steve only just got diagnosed with being lactose intolerant. Sometimes they both just wake up in a bad mood and can’t seem to get along. That’s just life, though. It’s just something they have to and _have_ dealt with during these years of living together, and if they’ve been going just fine now, what’s to say a relationship will be any different.

Natasha shrugs, unaware of all the thoughts running through Bucky’s brain right now, “I don’t know, and you never will. It’s best not to dwell on the past, Barnes.”

Bucky nods, “I know.”

Natasha turns to him, her face serious, “If it doesn’t work out- which it will- you know I’ll always be on your side. That’s not to say I won’t talk to Steve, but that I’ll always your best friend.”

Bucky nods again, oddly emotional at Natasha’s words. “Thanks.”

If it doesn’t work out he’ll still have his other best friend and the ability to go on a vacation for however long he wants. 

She gives him a small smile, the corner of her lips upturned only just, “Go get him, Barnes.”

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, the grin on his face just as unsure as the breath he let out, “Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” She tell him, patting him on the shoulder.

Bucky scans the crowd of people. There’s too many groups of people to spot Steve. Too many black suits and blond heads. It doesn’t help that Steve’s short as shit, either, but that just adds to Steve’s character. Instead of waiting until he spots Steve, Bucky takes an uneasy step forward. 

There’s butterflies eating at his stomach. His mind is creating outrageous and dramatic scenarios as to how badly this could play out. His hands are shaking and he feels like he two steps away from getting a panic attack. 

Bucky breathes in and exhales slowly. Letting the breath in his lungs tip out slowly, to the count of numbers in his head.

He side steps all the groups. Deciding that pulling Steve away from whichever guest he’s speaking to is the wrong thing to do. Instead, he does something movie-esque. Something he’d only read in a romance novel or watch in a rom-com.

He walks slowly to the only piece without people crowding it and smiles at the irony. The piece is one from years ago. It’s of the Brooklyn Bridge, Dali inspired and melting into the canvas. There’s a plaster sculpture coming out of a seemingly intentional rip in the work. It looks like a pyramid of red with black accents jutting out at the viewer, almost assaulting them with how brash and loud it is. 

There’s a new addition to the painting that makes Bucky frown. Atop the painted light polls little green beads are glued. If Bucky had never seen the painting before he wouldn’t have noticed them. The deep green of the plastic evenly weaves in with the rest of the pallet, but Bucky has seen this painting before. He and Steve have stared at it on nights after too many beers when they’re a little too drunk to push themselves away from the front door, the painting resting at the end of the hall. He’s seen it both sober and drunk, and he knows that those beads haven’t been there the whole time.

“Interested?”

Bucky turns to Steve, just who he was looking for. “It’s quite the piece,” Bucky says, playing along.

Steve hums, there’s a glass of champagne in his hand but it’s seemingly untouched. “I think it’s one of the best ones from my time in college. Had help on it, too.”

“Is that so?” He looks away from Steve and back to the painting, “I would have never guessed.”

“Nobody ever does,” Steve says, there’s a grin in his voice.

Bucky’s lips twitch up at the grin in Steve’s voice, “And those beads?” He asks, wanting to know why they’re there, what they’re there for, when they haven’t been the whole time, “What are those beads for?”

Steve laughs softly, it’s an embarrassed one, “When I was a kid my best friend and I exchanged bracelets at this Cinderella like friendship wedding.”

Memories of the fake wedding flood Bucky’s mind. He doesn’t know where his own bracelet went but he remembers exchanging one with Steve. He could never forget that, not even after all these years. He may not remember where his went, if he misplaced it or when he did, but he’ll never forget the feeling of being bonded to Steve in that way. Sure it was fake and he was too young to understand what they were doing, but he doesn’t regret it. Neither does Steve, apparently.

“I thought I’d lost it until I went through an old crayon box the other day.”

“Why are they on the painting?” Bucky asks, he has an inkling of thought as to why but he doesn’t want to be wrong. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something that might be nothing.

Steve shifts beside him, the glass flute reflecting in the lights, “The same friend who I traded the bracelets with is the one who helped me. He helped me a lot more than I realized, helped me so much I took it for granted and was oblivious to what was right in front of me.” Steve takes in a deep breath, audibly exhaling slowly, “I wasn’t the best friend that he deserved. Not after I constantly ignored his feelings and left him when he needed me most. But..” 

Steve’s cold fingers touch the back of his hand and Bucky turns to him. He looks down at Steve who’s side part is mussed up with how often he’s probably run his hand through it. Steve with more medical issues than Bucky can count on one hand. Steve who constantly bends his glasses by falling asleep with them on and likes to steal Bucky’s fine point markers. Steve who has hope in his eyes, who Bucky loves so goddamn much he can’t breathe sometimes.

“But?” Bucky asks, his voice almost a whisper. This moment is just for he and Steve. Not for prying ears of friends or curious on lookers.

“But, if that friend gave me a chance, I could make it up. I could stop trying to be a great best friend and instead try being a great boyfriend?”

It’s like Bucky’s heart explodes. Warmth fills his chest, hope and lung filling his lungs. He turns his hand around to take Steve’s own in it, feeling the tinge of cold from poor blood circulation. It feels like his tongue is tied. He’s waited for this moment for as long as he can remember and he can’t seem to do anything about it. 

Bucky clears his throat, “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.” His words should be much more eloquent, he should be spewing romantic lines about how long he’s waited for this but he can’t. He can only just hold Steve’s hand and give him a small, private smile.

Steve mirror’s his smile, “Great.”

“Great,” Bucky parrots, drunk on love and happiness. It’s going to be all rainbows and sunshine, but when is it ever?

All that matters is Steve loves him. The years it took them to get here don’t, whatever they might go through in the future doesn’t. 

Only this. 

Just this.

Stark’s bet with a vacation can suck it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! I know this fic has been a mess when it comes to updates, and it was supposed to be longer but I wrote what I was paid for before backing out of the commission. Stress and me just not liking this writing caused that, nothing else. Thank all of you for being loyal readers and I hope you liked the ending!
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> [Rebloggable Post](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/153051172955/propinquity-n-by-earthseraph-pesmenos)

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable post](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/post/150041587875/propinquity-n-by-earthseraph-pesmenos)
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> [My tumblr](http://pesmenos.tumblr.com/)


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